Of Accidents and Plans
by money127
Summary: "Two people, one an accident, the other a plan. Two strangers to love turned their backs on the cold cold world, looked at each other's tears and put on each other smiling masks." A backstory for my other fanfics: Fake Romance and Unfortunate Engagement. Knowing the main fanfics would help but it's not necessary. A story of how Mikan and Koko came to be prior to meeting Ruka Nogi.


Of Accidents and Plans

By: money127

* * *

 **Hey guys! It's been so long since I wrote on FanFiction. The past year was crazy but I'm out! So I've returned.**

 **This is in the same universe as Fake Romance and Unfortunate Engagement, a backstory for Mikan, Koko and their mothers (especially Yuka) and how they became the way they were. This is not necessary to understand the main story but it gives the right vibe for the rest of Unfortunate Engagement, I guess. I will be updating Unfortunate Engagement in the next couple of days. For now, though, please enjoy this.**

* * *

It was all a big, disastrous accident: the sex, the pregnancy, the marriage, and, by that same logic, Mikan Sakura. A common girl, pretty in that common way, smiled at a handsome young boy as she served him at a posh restaurant. That was an accident. So was meeting him in the men's restroom ten minutes after that. Not wearing a condom. Searching for his name in the restaurant records. Showing up at his doorstep with a positive pregnancy test. All of it, just accidents.

They barely turned seventeen when the Sakuras pushed Yuka down the altar, a beautiful, expensive altar of her demise. God forbid a Sakura child be born out of wedlock. So Mikan didn't. Mikan Sakura was born into a rich, loveless marriage. But she was loved. That, perhaps, was also a mistake. For if she did not ever receive it, she might not have missed it so much, the love.

From the altar, Yuka stumbled straight into labor and away from the world. No school which she was forced to quit, no friends who have not even heard of her marriage, no parents or siblings that were not to see her ever again, no scrutinizing high society ladies and no husband, cold hearted or otherwise. Just Yuka and Mikan in a blissful bubble of happiness that was to change when Mikan turned four.

"Yuka, sit up straighter." Mother-in-law instructed Yuka at the lunch table. She lived in the main house with her son and his new wife. Her husband long gone, Mrs. Sakura was to oversee the education of the Sakura family until her son could take over the headship.

"Yes, mother." Yuka humbly listened while Mikan, her back in an aristocratic arch, ate by her side.

"You ought to learn from your daughter." Mrs. Sakura complained, "How are the etiquette classes progressing?"

"Oh, Mikan is doing very well. She is a natural, mother." Yuka ensured excitedly.

"Not Mikan's, yours."

"Oh." Yuka exclaimed, "I'm doing my best."

"It doesn't seem so." Mrs. Sakura shook her head slightly in disapproval.

Yuka turned to her husband for support, comfort, anything but he was busy reading the newspaper, or maybe the phone behind the newspaper. Who was it this time? A model? An actress? Or maybe his secretary again? He did not look at her, not since his vows. How could he when she and her daughter were the chains around his ankles of freedom?

"Mommy is super good at holding her cutlery, Grandma!" Mikan chimed in, "Even the teacher said so."

"And what of these clothes." Mrs. Sakura continued, waving her fork up and down, "I gave you money to buy new clothes, and you are still wearing your rags."

"My parents were in need of a new stove. I thought since I could help that I should. The installation of the new stove required some renovations in the kitchen. My brother was also in need of a laptop and I..."

"You insolent brat!" Mrs. Sakura interrupted, "Now listen here. You are a Sakura now. I need you to act like one. And a Sakura will not associate with low lives."

"My parents are not low lives." Yuka argued back. Mother-in-law could insult her all she wanted but her family was a completely different matter.

"Then how do you explain how you turned out?"

Yuka was enraged. "You, bitch!"

"Yuka!" Her husband finally graced the conversation with his input, only to make sure that his wayward wife does not anger his mother any further.

Yuka was close to tears. She was not a Sakura, nobody truly accepted her as one, no matter how much they lied. Yet, she had to disown the Azumi name, unable to defend it.

And so Yuka became an orphan mother. Every night, Yuka snuck out of her king sized empty bed to sleep by Mikan's side. In this cold, lonely world, all Yuka had was Mikan, her protector. But not for long for, soon, Mikan turned five and was ready to be introduced into high society.

As Mikan ran off to meet her peers, the young Hyugas, a slightly older Andou and a smiling Yome, Yuka stood in an elegant sundress, looking at her bright daughter. The gossiping ladies, of course, could not just leave her alone.

"Yuka-san." One of them spoke. Yuka was not sure who, at this point, the looked like a pack of wolves ready to pounce on the naïve sheep, "You look lovely in that dress. Say, who is the designer?"

"Uhm." Yuka hesitated. Feeling something off, she tried to remember the foreign name.

"Is this a Chanel?"

"Or maybe you are more of a Lou V kind of woman."

"And what beautiful shoes."

"A Hyuga, perhaps? They look more like Louboutins, however."

"Actually," Yuka interrupted the excited women, "I don't know what I'm wearing; it was mother-in-law who picked this for me."

"Oh." The women feigned surprise in the most obvious way.

"Is that so."

"But surely you've heard of LV."

"Everybody knows Chanel."

"Surely, you've seen the new line from fashion week."

"Remi-san, how can you say that?" Another pretended to be indignant, "Yuka-san doesn't go to fashion shows."

"You're right. It's just that we didn't get to know you. We have not seen you since your wedding, Yuka-san"

"Yes, indeed, what have you been spending your time doing?"

"You don't seem to frequent anywhere we do. Not the polo marches or our annual trips to Paris. You've heard of Paris, I presume."

She knew where Paris was. How dare they assume she was an idiot just because she could not keep up with their conversations?

"Remi-san! Of course Yuka knows of Paris, the common education system is not that limited."

"But Yuka-san, you didn't finish high school, did you?"

"Uhm." Yuka could not utter a word, feeling ashamed.

"Not even finishing school, then?" The woman that Yuka now knew was Remi asked, "But all of us at least went to finishing school. Otherwise, how would you be able to call yourself a civilized lady?"

All the women laughed into their hands meekly while Yuka stood, humiliated and alone. These women have cornered her.

Yuka looked for her daughter. Mikan, surely she would come to her rescue. But as the child enjoyed the company of new friends, she did not notice the pleading gaze of her mother as the women continue to tear her apart, piece by piece.

That day, Yuka caught a cab back to Sakura mansion a little too early, leaving Mikan to look for her at the end of the party.

And when Mikan came back, her mother was no longer home. A maid told her that her mother went shopping, which was further proven when bags and bags of designer item arrived by the evening.

That night was the first night Mikan slept without her mother for Yuka was by her mirror trying on new makeup against her new hair style.

Everything changed after that. Yuka was nowhere to be found. Between her etiquette classes and keeping up with the trends and ladies, Mikan could never come close to her mother, a woman she could no longer recognize. Mrs. Sakura has seen her job done and found a peaceful place to spend her time judging everyone from. Her father, finally maturing enough to take over the family business, was also absent, although not very missed, leaving Mikan with debit cards and an empty mansion. And that is how Mikan realized that the love that she received for the last five years was just another accident.

* * *

Plans, it was all just plans. Attending the art opening, catching the eye of the ever so dishonest Yome, enticing him with killer looks, getting knocked up. All of it was planned. Kokoro Yome was, thus, just a plan.

Kokoro Yome was a bastard, son of a cunning woman who knew how to make use of her beauty and mind, as well as a fertile womb, to not only catch the attention of the married Yome CEO but also keep it. And Kokoro knew. His mother spared him no detail from an impressionable age that he was to be in on it. In on the plan. The plan to inherit the electronic empire, take it under the nose of his other children, legitimate or otherwise.

Sit straighter.

Don't cause trouble.

Be polite.

Get good grades.

Be curious and childlike.

Smile.

Smile.

Smile.

Smile until it hurts.

Then smile a little more.

Kokoro Yome never received love. That was also the plan, to condition him with the lack of love and the craving for it. Make him want it to dangle it in front of him. What could he say, his mother knew how to read minds and use them. The apple didn't fall too far from the tree, after all.

So to smile at Mikan Sakura was a plan. To become her good friend was a plan.

To slowly, slowly, realize that she was just like him was not. But it could've been anyways.

He first noticed when year after year Mikan was accompanied by her grandmother to the parent teacher conferences. His own mother came dressed to the ten to hear her son's great accomplishments but upon hearing that a certain Hotaru Imai was the first in the grade, Kokoro knew he would not have a pleasant week.

When he invited Mikan to his birthday, her mother would arrive fashionably late while Mikan would be there ten minutes early just to be nice. There were fireworks and Brazilian dancers. His mother was again gorgeous, but again, not for his eyes. His father was passing by just to check up on him so of course she could not let the opportunity slide. The grandeur, although not unwelcomed by Kokoro, was not for him. His ever so bored father needed the entertainment and excitement, his mother obliged.

Learning from his last encounter with his mother, Kokoro earned the highest grades he could. But it was never enough. "How can you impress him with this!?" His mother would ask every time he brought home a 99%. The more he tried, the more she expected. But the better he got, the more his mother would look at him. "You did well. You can do better" was her motto.

"Yome-kun!" Mikan yelled as she spotted him, "Look, I got 95%!"

"Hey, Mikan." Kokoro decided that he would rather share his grades with his lovely friend and just not mention this to his mother, "I got a 90%."

"I hope your mother wouldn't yell at you. This is a very good score, anyways."

"Thanks. I'm sure your parents are very proud of you."

"Mother is not home. Nor is father."

"Well you can tell them when they come back."

"Yeah…" Mikan sadly sighed.

The year Kokoro went to Mrs. Sakura's funeral, Mikan brought her butler to school. Her mother was in Paris on one of her annual trips.

Middle school went by like a blur. Kokoro's face came to a smiling habit while Mikan discovered the magic of spending money on clothes. During break, they talked about their parents. During weekends Kokoro would sleep over. They studied together, working hard to achieve higher grades. Perhaps if they reached that elusive 100%, their mothers would look at them the way they craved, with the love that Mikan missed and Kokoro never had.

The day they both got their stellar grades from graduating middle school, Mikan and Kokoro parted haphazardly, hopping into their private cars to speed back home.

Kokoro returned to an empty house. He called his father's secretary to find out that his parents were in Hawaii for the summer.

Kokoro found no note at home and heard nothing from anyone. No "take care of yourself" or "be good". And, of course, no "love, mom". For the very near future, Kokoro was not needed in the plan. So for the very near future, Kokoro Yome did not exist.

Just as he was about to cry, he heard his doorbell ring. There stood Mikan. She was rejected. Her mother was home. Recently returning from Italy, Yuka needed the beauty rest to keep up with all the youthful new ladies in the group. That beauty sleep was rudely interrupted by her forgotten daughter. Hence, Mikan's swollen cheek.

Seeing her friend, Mikan slowly exploded into tears at his doorstep. Not being able to take it any longer, Kokoro, too started to cry. The two hugged each other and wept like the children that they were.

Once they both ran out of tears, Kokoro looked at the girl still at his side. Here he was, in his house but not his home. His parents, both alive and well, were not here with him, instead there was Mikan.

"Mikan, run away with me." Kokoro proposed.

"Why?" Mikan asked.

How could he tell her that he wanted to start a new family with her? A true family where people loved each other. How could he tell her that he wanted to restart their world? To be the Adam and Eve of their lives.

"If we run away, wouldn't your mother freak out? Then surely, she'll go look for you. And she'll realize that she was wrong and take you back." Kokoro tried to reason with Mikan

"OK. Let's run away. But to where?" Mikan, still exhausted from crying, asked.

"Paris."

"Paris!?" Mikan asked, "That's across this continent!"

"Well, if we don't run away far enough, there wouldn't be enough urgency to bring you back, right?" To isolate her was the plan. A plan to be happy together, and only together.

"That's true." Mikan thought, "OK, let me pack my things and we will be on the plane first thing tomorrow morning."

And so, Mikan Sakura and Kokoro Yome looked out from the airplane window, leaving Tokyo for what turned out to be a very long time.

* * *

They left a trail, Mikan made sure of it. She used her own cards to buy the plane tickets. Anything and everything they did left a paper trail from buying a house to make their home to enrolling into Alice Académie Paris (a farce since they would obviously return before the summer ends). So Mikan was rather surprised, when no news came from anyone for the whole summer.

"Say, Koko." Mikan said over cereal on the first day of school, "Do you think my mother is on a summer tour of fashion destinations?"

"Maybe, I wouldn't know."

"Hum." Mikan sighed. Of course, Koko didn't tell her that his mother called, assuming that he was ready to ace the new school year now that she was about to return. Koko didn't tell Mikan that he talked his mother into leaving him in Paris where he could access the same education. Koko didn't tell Mikan that he was determined to maintain their new home and bliss, even their friendship, which he could easily destroy if he were to truly tell her how he felt.

That day, Mikan met her first client. A boy, too popular for his tastes, needed a girl that could keep the excited classmates away. But Mikan declined. She was going to go back to Japan any day now. Mikan ran back home, Koko falling behind. She checked her email, their voice mail, their mail box and every room of their house.

Finding nothing, like any other day before that, Mikan fell to her knees and cried for the first time since she arrived in France.

Ninety two days of checking and waiting, of hoping and wishing, of dreaming and anticipating.

She was forgotten.

Like the accident that she was, her mother has successfully erased Mikan out of her mind.

Coming to Mikan's side, Koko took her into his arms, "It's alright, Sami. I'm here. We will be happy here together. It's alright, Sami. I'm here. We will be happy here together."

And so he repeated, until Mikan stopped crying and started to believe. Falling asleep, Mikan finally held on to Koko the way he always held on to her.

Two people, one an accident, the other a plan. Two aliens to love turned their backs on the cold cold world, looked at each other's tears and put on each other smiling masks.

And so they remain: Sami and Koko. The only hands to hold were each other's, the only home to come back to their own.

That is, until a Ruka Nogi.


End file.
